


Where Is Your Boy Tonight

by annemari



Series: You're a Matter of Urgency [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Protectiveness, Sibling Incest, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/pseuds/annemari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey's standing by the far end of the bar with some tall dude leaning over him. Gerard's stomach goes tight with jealousy, but then he catches sight of Mikey's face. Even from this far away he looks uncomfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Is Your Boy Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a timestamp for [You're a Matter of Urgency](http://archiveofourown.org/works/505857). It takes place several years before the events of that fic, and a week after the first flashback in that story. However, I do think it stands alone.
> 
> Thanks so much to **concinnity** for betaing! Title from the Fall Out Boy song.

Gerard's leaning against the wall alongside Ray, nursing his beer and watching the crowd. Mikey disappeared into the mosh pit during the show and hasn't emerged yet. 

Gerard wasn't really sure about going out tonight, but Mikey asked him to come and that was that, really. Especially since this is the first time Mikey has asked in a while. 

As if reading his mind, Ray bumps his shoulder and says, "Awesome that you could make it, dude."

Gerard shrugs and gives Ray a brief smile. "Yeah, well, Mikey dragged me out here."

"Using bodily force?" Ray asks.

Gerard snorts beer up his nose. Ray pats him on the back, but he doesn't seem very apologetic.

"Fucker," Gerard gasps, wiping his nose and mouth.

"What?" Ray asks innocently. "He could totally manage it."

Gerard coughs out a laugh and runs his eyes over the crowd again—still no sight of Mikey.

"He's skinny, but tough," Ray says.

"Sure," Gerard agrees. Mikey may have recently developed _some_ muscles from practicing guitar—and it's not like Gerard has any upper-body strength himself—but the image of Mikey dragging _him_ anywhere is laughable and—shit. Gerard gulps. He's not going down that road right now.

"I am glad you came," Ray says, thankfully bringing Gerard out of his thoughts. "It's been too long, man. You're never here in town and then when you are home Mikey tells me you spend all the time in the basement. If I didn't know you I'd think he'd made you up."

Gerard snorts. "Too good to be true."

Ray laughs and leans into him. "I'm just saying that it's nice to see you. So what have you been up to?"

Gerard sips on his beer, then pulls a face. "You know. Art."

"Come on, man, tell me."

Gerard glances at Ray, at his open face, and lets out a breath. Ray's always good to talk to, and even though Gerard can't unload about the shit that's _really_ tripping him up, at least he can talk about college and life and shit.

He's about halfway through explaining the idea for his final project when Ray frowns and asks, "Who's that guy with Mikey?"

Gerard turns around, fast. Mikey's standing by the far end of the bar with some tall dude leaning over him. Gerard's stomach goes tight with jealousy, but then he catches sight of Mikey's face. Even from this far away he looks uncomfortable.

"Does Mikey know him?" Ray asks.

"I don't know," Gerard says. "I don't think so."

Ray makes a worried noise next to him and Gerard agrees. The dude is definitely giving off some bad vibes. Gerard sees Mikey glance around, probably looking for them. The dude leans in more, placing his hand on the bar right next to Mikey, effectively bracketing him in. Gerard can't see Mikey's face anymore with the dude's arm in the way. 

He hands Ray his beer, pushes away from the wall and starts to weave his way through the crowd, nudging people aside when they get in his way. The dude's already pressing closer to Mikey.

"Hey," Gerard says, raising his voice over the music. The dude turns to him, seeming surprised, and lifts his arm away. Gerard immediately steps between the dude and Mikey, shouldering his way in. He can feel Mikey press himself close and clutch at the lapel of Gerard's jacket, his fingers brushing against bare skin where Gerard's shirt has ridden up.

The dude is tall and wide, face like a fucking—something that's begging to be punched. Gerard doesn't fucking know. The guy is sleazy as fuck, and right now he's all up in Gerard's face.

"What the fuck, man, I was just talking," the dude complains.

"He's not interested."

"Yeah?" the dude asks. "And how the fuck would you know?"

"I know," Gerard says.

"Maybe we should ask him," the dude says, like he actually fucking _cares_. He tries to step past Gerard and get to Mikey, though, and fuck that. Gerard raises his arm, doesn't _push_ , just holds it up, hoping the dude will just fucking back up already. "No, man, I'm serious," the dude says. "Let's ask him."

"I'm not interested," Mikey bites out, voice controlled, but Gerard can _tell_ he's uncomfortable, _scared_. He's holding onto Gerard's waist and he's not quite trembling, but Gerard knows.

Mikey might be slightly taller than Gerard, but he's definitely no good in a fight. His glasses alone put him at a disadvantage, and he's all bones. He might be able to weasel away, but Gerard's not gonna risk that.

Gerard's never been in a fight himself. He can usually talk his way out of things, and he's hoping for that now, too, but there's also something thrumming deep inside. He wants to fucking punch this guy, kick his ass for daring to even touch Mikey. For scaring Mikey. No one is allowed to fucking do that.

He hopes it won't come to punches, because he's pretty sure he'll lose, but he still wants it.

"Just back the fuck off, man," Gerard says. "We're leaving, okay." He drops his hand, and the guy, miraculously, steps back. He looks fucking _angry_ , but he steps back. "Come on," Gerard tells Mikey, and grabs his arm, pulling him away from the bar and in the direction of the exit.

They don't get very far, not even making it to the door. "Hey, come on," the dude shouts, stalking after them, getting too close for comfort. "You know that dude's just begging to be fucked. Or are you gonna take care of that yourself, man? I'm offering to take him off your hands."

Gerard's stomach churns, but it's Mikey who spits out, "You should probably _find_ your dick first, asshole. But I'm not offering to help with that."

The dude pushes Gerard aside and shoves Mikey, hard. Mikey hits the wall, and Gerard hears his shout of pain even over the music.

Gerard doesn't think, he just lunges. The dude goes down, which Gerard honestly didn't expect. He takes advantage of it, getting a couple of punches in, never mind if they're kind of off target, before someone drags him off—Ray, it's Ray. The other dude scrambles up, and fuck, Gerard wants to smash his face in, but Ray's holding him back.

"You ever come near him again, I'll fucking kill you," Gerard says, staring right at the dude's face. His lip and nose are bleeding. A part of Gerard is shocked, but mostly the sight brings him a weird sort of satisfaction. (Fuck, he's a _pacifist_.)

The guy turns around and books it, disappearing into the crowd near the doors, not even looking back. Gerard quickly shakes Ray off and goes to Mikey. _Fuck_ , he should have done that right away.

Mikey's leaning against the wall, looking a little dazed. "Mikey," Gerard says, hands going to Mikey's shoulders. "Mikey, are you okay?"

Mikey blinks and makes eye contact with Gerard, and nods. Gerard moves his hand to the back of Mikey's head, remembering how he smacked against the wall. "Are you sure?" Gerard asks. He tries to feel for a bump, or for blood, anything, but his hands are shaking— _he's_ shaking and Mikey's not saying anything and the club is dark and loud.

"Come on," Gerard says, and pulls Mikey away from the wall, carefully sneaking his arm around Mikey's back and leading him to the bathroom. He vaguely hears Ray call out to him, but he ignores it. It can wait.

The bathroom is small, but thankfully empty. It will do. Gerard maneuvers Mikey to lean against the sinks and moves his hand to the back of Mikey's neck. "Does it hurt?" he asks. "Mikey. Mikey, look at me."

Mikey meets his eyes, looking more present this time. "No," he says, and lets out a deep breath, relaxing a little. "No, I'm fine."

"I'm just gonna check," Gerard says, and gently turns Mikey's head, just a little, so he can see better. He gets up on his tiptoes, pressing against Mikey's body, and inspects the back of his head. There's no blood that he can see in the bleak bathroom light. He runs his fingers over Mikey's scalp and down the back of his neck. He can't feel a bump. Shit, maybe they should still get Mikey checked out in a hospital or something, what if it's, like, inner fucking bleeding. He doesn't know.

"Gee," Mikey says. "It's fine, I don't think I hit my head that hard. It's fine. It doesn't hurt."

Gerard rests his hand on the back of Mikey's neck, staring at the spot behind Mikey's ear, where his hair curls around the hands of his glasses, and tries to focus on breathing. Mikey's fine. A breath out. Mikey's fine. A breath in. He's hit by the scent of Mikey's hair gel, mingling with sweat and smoke. Mikey's smell. Fuck, he's still shaking, and someone, someone _dared_ touch his brother—

"Gee," Mikey says, sounding faint. Gerard pulls back to look at Mikey. Mikey's eyes are wide behind his smudged up glasses. Gerard can't tell if it's only him who's shaking or Mikey, too.

"You're okay," Gerard says, and Mikey nods, fast, and opens his mouth to respond. Gerard leans forward and kisses him, rough, too rough, but he _needs_ this, needs to know Mikey's okay, he's safe, and there, and Gerard's.

Mikey immediately kisses back, his gasp lost in Gerard's mouth. He wraps his arms around Gerard and clings. They haven't kissed since that night when Mikey came home drunk last week. Gerard's fucking wanted to, so bad, but they just—haven't. He can't get enough now. He pulls Mikey even closer, hand on Mikey's shoulder.

Mikey makes a soft sound and tenses up, breaking the kiss. Shit.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Gerard pulls his hand away and leans back. "Is it your shoulder?"

Mikey shakes his head. "It's fine."

"You sure?" Gerard asks. He can't remember it that clearly, Mikey could have slammed into the wall at an angle instead.

Mikey nods, and leans forward, trying to capture Gerard's lips again. "I'm fine. I'm okay, 's nothing."

"Wait, wait, Mikey." Gerard places his hand on Mikey's chest, holding him back. He shakes his head, fuck, _fuck_ , they're in a public bathroom, _anyone_ could have walked in. "No, Mikey, we can't."

Mikey stops struggling at that; it's like his whole body deflates. "But you— _Gee_."

"Shh." Gerard pulls Mikey into a hug, wrapping his arms around him firmly, and kisses his ear. "Not here. Someone might see. It's okay." He draws back quickly to get a good look at Mikey. "Come on, look at me. You're okay?"

Mikey blinks at him, eyes a little wide but clear, and nods.

"Good," Gerard says. "Let's go home."

Ray's waiting for them near the bathroom doors, and fuck, thank fuck he didn't come in. He immediately steps up to them. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah," Gerard says. "He's fine. Listen, Toro, can we—"

"What about you?" Ray asks. "Dude, I thought you'd break your fingers."

Gerard frowns and looks down at his hand, the one not on Mikey's back, and flexes it. It hurts, vaguely. "I'm fine," he says.

"Are you sure, Gee?" Mikey asks.

"Yeah," Gerard says. "Let's just go."

"I told the security it was under control," Ray says. "The dude must have left, so."

Gerard nods. "Thanks, Toro. Listen, you came with your car, right? Can we maybe get a ride home?"

Ray nods instantly. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Come on."

The crowd near the doors is thick, so Gerard moves his hands to Mikey's sides and brackets him from behind, both of them following Ray. He takes a deep breath and lets go when they get outside, stepping away but still staying close to Mikey. He's just not sure how close would be suspicious. Fuck.

"It's like two blocks away," Ray says. "Are you sure you guys are okay? That was pretty fucking intense. What was that even about?"

Mikey shrugs. "Just some drunk dude."

Gerard squeezes his hands into fists. Ray shakes his head. "Well, it's fucked up, he going at you like that. I'm just glad we spotted you."

And there it is. If they hadn't seen Mikey, if he hadn't been standing there at the bar—who the fuck knows what would have happened. (Or maybe the dude would have let it go. Maybe Gerard made it worse by getting involved.) He thinks about all the times Mikey went out by himself and feels sick.

It's pretty cold outside, the temperature seeming to have dropped fast. Gerard notices Mikey hunch over and wrap his arms around himself, obviously freezing in his thin t-shirt. Gerard stops to shrug out of his jacket and hands it to Mikey. Mikey rolls his eyes, but takes it without further comment.

"It's not that much farther," Ray says apologetically, like it's his fault it got cold and the parking's shit and Mikey's lazy about jackets.

"It's fine," Gerard says, watching Mikey shrug the jacket on. Or try to, because as soon as Mikey raises his right arm he lets out a quiet gasp and curls up a little, clutching at his right shoulder.

Gerard steps forward, alarmed. "Mikey?"

"Shit," Mikey says. "Ow. Guess I slammed it into the wall harder than I thought."

Gerard reaches out, hands hovering. "How bad is it? Should we go to a hospital or something?"

Mikey straightens up and cracks his neck. "No, it's not that bad. Just bruised, probably."

"Do you want me to help the jacket on?"

Mikey shakes his head. "Just throw it over my shoulders, dude. It's fine."

Gerard drapes it over Mikey's shoulders, still frowning. He has to keep himself from touching Mikey's neck, the small of his back where his t-shirt is riding up. Ray's right there, fuck. And sure, Ray's used to them being close, but Gerard can no longer tell where the line is, and when other people may start noticing. Fuck.

"You sure you're okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah," Mikey says. "Come on."

It really isn't much farther. Gerard's relieved when they reach the car—he was sort of afraid the dude might still be lurking somewhere.

Ray opens the car door and smiles at Mikey. "You wanna take shotgun, Mikey?" He steps forward to put his hand on Mikey's shoulder. Gerard reacts without thinking, stepping in front of Mikey and pushing Ray's arm away.

Ray stares at him, obviously shocked, and steps back. "I didn't—"

Shit. "Shit. Shit, Ray, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Gerard pulls back, feeling hot and embarrassed. What the fuck is he doing?

"No, it's fine," Ray says. "Sorry, Mikey, I shouldn't have—"

"Stop," Mikey says. "Both of you, stop fucking apologizing. Can we just go?"

Gerard flinches. Shit, now he upset Mikey. But Mikey says, "Me and Gee will take the backseat, okay?" So maybe he's not mad.

"Yeah, okay," Ray says, closing the passenger door. He gives Gerard another look, less freaked out, _understanding_. Fucking Toro. Gerard really loves him.

They climb into the backseat, Mikey going first. Gerard pulls the door shut and for a moment it's just them in the dark car. The street lights coming through the window leave Mikey's face in shadows. Gerard breathes in sharply. "Mikey."

Ray opens the front door and gets in, and Gerard looks away, feeling like someone caught him doing something he shouldn't. Ray starts the car, and after a moment, Gerard can feel Mikey shuffling closer to him on the seat. Fuck, Gerard needs a smoke.

The backseat smells of gasoline and beer, and sweat, and smoke; and all of that reminds Gerard of the scene in the bathroom, of pressing up against Mikey and kissing him.

He expects Mikey to relax against him, hopes for it, hopes that Mikey's not mad, but Mikey doesn't. He stays tense, his thigh almost trembling against Gerard's.

The ride home is quiet. Ray tries to make small-talk at first, and Gerard tries to answer, but all his brain is doing is climbing all over itself, worrying about Mikey, about what happened, what could have happened and whether Ray hates him now, and what Mikey's thinking.

Finally Ray pulls up in front of the house. "Thanks, Ray," Gerard says, leaning forward and touching Ray's shoulder. "Seriously."

Ray shakes his head. "Dude, of course. Are you sure you don't need to go by the hospital or something?"

"Nah, we're fine," Gerard says. "Mikey?"

"Yeah," Mikey says. "Thanks, Ray."

"No problem. Hope the shoulder will feel better soon."

"Thanks," Mikey says again, and opens the door. Ray waits until they're on the porch and have the door to the house open before driving off. Ray's a good dude.

Gerard leads Mikey into the downstairs bathroom where they keep the first aid kit. He has to move some old shampoo bottles to get at it and almost drops one while pulling it out. He turns around to find Mikey leaning against the sink, arms wrapped around himself, jacket draping from his shoulders.

"Can I see your shoulder and back?" Gerard asks, too loud in the quiet of the bathroom.

Mikey shrugs, then shakes his head. "It's fine."

Gerard grits his teeth. "Mikey."

"Your hands," Mikey says. "You should take care of those."

Gerard looks down at his knuckles, bruised and maybe a little swollen. "Later," he says, and steps closer. "Come on, let me see." He reaches for the jacket and Mikey lets him take it.

"Can you lift your arms?" Gerard asks. "I'll be really quick. We'll do a countdown and then you lift and I pull the shirt off, okay?"

Mikey shakes his head, and says, "It's fine." He places his glasses on the counter, then takes a deep breath and slowly lifts both arms. Gerard quickly pulls his shirt off, and Mikey lowers his arms and puts his glasses back on, then turns around.

Mikey's back looks okay. Maybe a little red, but there's not a giant bruise or anything, nothing like Gerard was imagining. Same for the shoulder, and yeah, the back of his head and neck is fine, too. Gerard breathes out slowly, calming himself, and trails his fingers down Mikey's spine, carefully, checking for any sort of bumps that shouldn't be there.

It takes him too long to realize that Mikey has practically stopped breathing, holding his body tense under Gerard's touch. Gerard frowns and raises his gaze to look in the mirror in front of Mikey, leans a little to the side to see Mikey's face. The sight makes his stomach go tight.

Mikey's eyes are closed, his face flushed and lips a little parted. He looks beautiful.

"Mikey," Gerard breathes, and Mikey jumps and opens his eyes. He turns around to face Gerard, but looks down, his hair falling into his eyes. "Hey," Gerard says, and reaches out to brush it away but stops, and pulls it away again. "Talk to me."

Mikey looks up and sighs, brushing the hair away. "About what?"

"You know." Gerard frowns. "Are you mad at me? Are you okay? You were quiet in the car." He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Mikey's ear.

"Oh," Mikey says. "I thought—I thought maybe Ray—and you freaked out."

Gerard shakes his head. "You thought what?"

"That maybe you thought Ray would figure it out. And that we shouldn't."

Gerard swallows hard. "Do you think we shouldn't?"

Mikey shakes his head, but before Gerard's stomach gets the chance to drop, Mikey leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. "I want you," he says, pulling back and looking Gerard in the eyes.

Gerard smiles. "Good. Me too."

"Yeah?" Mikey asks.

"Yeah." Gerard settles his hands on Mikey's hips, thumb stroking Mikey's hipbone. "You looked really fucking hot tonight."

Mikey's eyes go soft, happy, and he quirks one side of his mouth up. Gerard leans forward to kiss it.

"Really?" Mikey asks, a whisper.

"Yeah," Gerard says, and lifts a thumb to Mikey's lips. "So hot. So pretty. I should've told you before we left the house."

"Next time you should," Mikey says, and gently kisses Gerard's thumb before sucking it into his mouth.

"Fuck," Gerard gasps, pulling his thumb away and smearing the spit over Mikey's bottom lip. "So pretty." His heart's racing and his stomach goes tight, with both want and fear. "Do you wanna blow me?" They've never done that. Just kissed, and handjobs that they pretended hadn't happened. But god, he wants Mikey so bad.

Mikey nods fast, his eyes wide and pupils blown. "Yes. Fuck, Gee."

"What if," Gerard asks, cupping Mikey's dick through his jeans, "I blew you instead?"

Mikey inhales sharply, his head falling back and exposing his pretty neck. Fuck.

"Do you want that?" Gerard asks and presses the heel of his hand against Mikey's crotch.

"Please," Mikey says. "Gee, please."

"Shh," Gerard says, and starts to unbutton Mikey's pants. "You don't have to beg, okay?" He doesn't want Mikey to feel like Gerard's holding this over him or taunting him. That's not what this is. Fuck, that's now that this is at all.

He gets Mikey's jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, and pulls them down. Mikey's wearing tiny briefs, and fuck, he's so hot.

"You good?" Gerard asks him, making sure. Mikey's leaning back against the sink, hands braced on the countertop, looking lean and beautiful. Skinny, but the Mikey kind, and right now there's not a trace of awkwardness, nor the scene-kid facade he puts on when he goes out. Just Mikey.

Gerard wants to press him down onto his bed and cover him, mark him so everyone knows he's taken. He wants everyone to know he's _Gerard's_ , but they can't. They can't know, so Gerard will settle for this.

"Gee, come on," Mikey whines, and Gerard smiles and drops to his knees, dragging Mikey's briefs down as well and freeing his dick.

"Fuck." Gerard braces his hands on Mikey's thighs, staring at Mikey's dick. Hesitating, suddenly. He figures this may be one of those "no coming back from this" moments. If so, then it's a pretty ridiculous one—him kneeling on the bathroom floor, staring at his brother's dick—but here they fucking are.

He wants this. He's thought about this before, imagined it while lying on his bed alone or with Mikey beside him. He's so far gone already, this seems like the only way it _could_ go.

"Gee?" Mikey asks, sounding unsure.

Gerard looks up at him, all that bare skin, his long pale neck. His beautiful face, so fucking familiar to Gerard.

"Gerard," Mikey says. Gerard grips the base of Mikey's dick and leans in to take it into his mouth.

Mikey gasps above him, jerking his hips forward and Gerard has to pull back a little to avoid choking.

"Shit, sorry, sorry," Mikey pants. "Fuck, Gee."

Gerard pulls back enough so his mouth is only covering the head of Mikey's dick and strokes the shaft, once, twice, just to get Mikey to make those broken sounds, the ones he makes when it's dark and they're in bed and Gerard's jerking him off.

This is so much better, though, just the fact of them here in the lit-up bathroom, such a fucking contrast to hiding in the dark. A fucking metaphor. And afterward they're not gonna pretend this didn't happen. Gerard's not going to.

He realizes he's unconsciously started twirling his tongue around the cockhead, and moving up and down, helping along with his hand. He focuses back in, feeling a little guilty for not paying more attention to Mikey's reactions, but he's totally back in the game now.

"Fuck," Mikey's panting, his hips jerking. "Fuck, Gee, can I fuck your mouth, please?"

Gerard pulls off, just for a moment to hoarsely say, "Shit, do it."

Mikey buries his fingers in Gerard's hair and _pulls_ , and Gerard groans around Mikey's dick.

Mikey starts fucking his mouth in earnest, guiding Gerard, tugging at his hair, and fuck, Gerard vaguely knew he was getting hard before, but now his dick is straining against the zipper of his jeans.

His fingers are digging into Mikey's thighs, so tight he's probably leaving bruises. Mikey's not complaining, though.

It doesn't take long before Mikey's panting out, "Fuck, Gee, I—" and coming down Gerard's throat. It's not much of a warning, but Gerard rolls with it, managing to swallow without choking. He pulls back and rests his head against Mikey's thigh. They're both trembling.

After a while "holy shit, I just blew my brother" stops running through Gerard's head—or falls a little more to the background, at least—and he notices his own dick again. He pushes himself to his feet, almost stumbling into Mikey.

"Fuck," Mikey says. "Fuck, fuck, do you need me to—"

He gestures towards Gerard's dick, still trapped by his jeans, and Gerard struggles to get his pants unbuttoned. Stupid tight jeans, he only put them on to impress Mikey. He didn't even notice how painfully they were digging into his waist when he was kneeling on the floor, he was more focused on Mikey's dick and his own.

"Come on, let me," Mikey says, still panting, and their hands collide as they both fumble with Gerard's fly.

"I got it," Gerard says, and sucks in his stomach and gets the button open.

Mikey pulls down Gerard's fly and sticks his hand in Gerard's pants without any preamble.

Gerard gasps and clutches Mikey's shoulders. Mikey whimpers, and Gerard pauses. "Shit, _shit_ , baby, I'm sorry." He quickly lets go of Mikey's hurt shoulder, and Mikey places one hand on his waist.

"It's fine," he says, and fuck, fuck, God bless Mikey's long fingers. He gets Gerard off fast, while Gerard supports himself on the bathroom counter and pants into his neck.

Gerard muffles his shout against Mikey's neck when he comes, then sinks his teeth in as soon as he has the energy and bearings to do so. Mikey's neck was made for biting.

Mikey groans and pulls his hand out of Gerard's pants, settles it on his waist where Gerard's t-shirt has ridden up, stick and wet. His fingers stroke the marks the waistband of the jeans left and Gerard tries not to whine.

"Fuck," Gerard gasps, and kisses Mikey's neck where he bit it.

"Yeah," Mikey agrees.

Gerard breathes out slowly and presses another kiss to Mikey's neck, then leans back to look at it. The skin's not broken, there's only a faint red mark. Still, it makes something shift in Gerard's stomach, makes him feel hot all over. Mikey's his brother, no one else's.

He runs his hands over Mikey's sides, noticing the goosebumps on his arms. "Are you cold?"

Mikey shrugs, and says, "Not really," but when Gerard steps back he wraps his arms around him. Gerard gives him a look. Mikey rolls his eyes. "Maybe. I really don't want to lift my arm to get the shirt back on."

"Yeah," Gerard says, and runs careful fingertips over Mikey's shoulder. "Well, you can take the jacket now, at least, before we get to bed."

Mikey blinks and throws Gerard a quick look that he can't read, but then he smiles. "Yeah. Okay."

Gerard gets the jacket and drapes it over Mikey's shoulders again, leaning in and kissing Mikey's temple, right above the arm of Mikey's glasses.

"Thanks," Mikey says, zipping up his fly. "Uh, you should probably—" He points to Gerard's pants. "What if mom's awake or something, I don't know."

"Oh," Gerard says. "Yeah." He gets his fly done, then flexes his fingers, cursing quietly.

"Gee?" Mikey asks. "You okay?"

"Damn," Gerard says, staring at his bruised knuckles. They're not bleeding or anything, so he doesn't really have any use for the first aid kit.

"You really should have put something cold on them."

"The other guy looks worse," Gerard jokes. He hopes, at least. Fucker deserved it.

Mikey just gives him a look.

Gerard shrugs, and reaches out for Mikey's unhurt shoulder. "I had to take are of you first, okay."

Mikey rolls his eyes, but he lets Gerard lead him out of the bathroom. He stops them before they reach Gerard's room, though.

"Go," Mikey says. "I'll get something cold from the kitchen." Gerard frowns, but Mikey's pushing him towards the stairs. "Go, I'll be right back."

"Promise?" Gerard asks. He doesn't know why he needs the reassurance.

"Yeah," Mikey says, and heads to the kitchen.

He doesn't take long. Even so, Gerard has time to sort through all the times in recent memory that Mikey's gone out alone and think through everything that could have happened. Well, not everything, he supposes.

He's stuck imagining Mikey's body being found somewhere in a pond when he hears Mikey's footsteps on the stairs and the door opens.

"I found peas," Mikey says. "That's weird, right? How often do we even eat peas? I had no idea we had them."

He climbs on the bed and settles next to Gerard, reaching for his hand. Gerard lets him take it, lets Mikey turn it carefully and press the bag of peas to Gerard's knuckles. It's cold and it hurts, a little.

"There," Mikey says. "Just keep that there, okay. So you don't lose your fingers." He looks up and meets Gerard's eyes. "Gerard?"

Gerard swallows hard and slides his hand up Mikey's neck. He's warm. "You're okay."

Mikey furrows his brow. "Yeah," he says. "Of course I am." He pulls a face. "The shoulder will probably take a couple of days. But it's fine."

"But what if you weren't?"

"But I am," Mikey says. He's still holding Gerard's hand in his, covering the peas with the other.

Gerard swallows and adjusts Mikey's jacket with one hand, keeping it from slipping off. "Fuck, Mikey, anything could happen. You go out all the time, and fuck, you're usually not even prepared for it to _rain_ , let alone—"

"Gerard," Mikey says, a warning, his voice growing tight. "If you tell me I have to stop wearing—"

Gerard moves his hand to Mikey's cheek and interrupts him with a kiss. Mikey kisses back softly.

"That's—no," Gerard says. "I don't fucking know, Mikes. I just worry."

"I can take care of myself," Mikey says. "I have been. Nothing's happened."

Gerard swallows and closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Mikey's.

"I know," he says. "It's just, I know I haven't been there and I want to be. Things got fucked up for a while, and I'm sorry, but I want you to talk to me, about shit like this or anything." He pulls back so he can look Mikey in the eyes, be sure that Mikey _gets_ it. "I'm still your big brother, Mikey."

"Yeah," Mikey says softly. "I know."

Gerard leans forward and wraps his arms around Mikey's waist. The peas fall down and the jacket slips off Mikey's shoulders when he goes to hug back, their knees sort of awkwardly bumping together, but it doesn't matter. "I love you," Gerard says.

He hears Mikey's quiet intake of breath, and then Mikey's hugging him even closer and pressing his face against Gerard's neck, his glasses probably getting smudged all to fuck. Gerard has to strain to hear the whispered "I love you too", but it's there.

"Come on," Gerard says after a while. "I'm so fucking tired."

"Adrenaline rush," Mikey says. "Here, you should still take the peas."

"How am I gonna sleep with that?" Gerard grumbles.

"Just hold it against your hand for a bit," Mikey says. He throws the jacket to the floor, then rolls his eyes when Gerard gives him an indignant, "Hey!" and drapes it over a chair instead, and goes to pull back the covers, nudging Gerard out of the way.

Gerard sits on the end of the bed, holding the peas on his hand, and watches as Mikey takes his pants off. He'd consider leering or suggesting—something, but he's so fucking tired he can't even keep his eyelids open. He startles when he feels Mikey's hands on his waist, and realizes he'd almost nodded off.

"I'm gonna take off your jeans," Mikey says, his fingers quickly working on the fly. "Stand up for a second?" Gerard does so and then Mikey's sitting him down again and trying to tug his pants off. "Can you help me out a little?" Gerard sighs and pushes the pants down, letting Mikey pull them off completely. Those he does drop to the floor, Gerard notices. Mikey makes a face at something, but Gerard doesn't know what.

"I think we should really shower tomorrow," Mikey says.

"Sure," Gerard agrees. Whatever. As long as he can sleep now. Tomorrow's far away.

He's not sure how the exhaustion hit him so fast, but next thing he knows the ice pack is gone and Mikey's pulling the covers over them and curling up behind Gerard. He gently covers Gerard's hand with his and Gerard drifts off to the sound of Mikey's soft breathing.


End file.
